Chapter 50 do it yourself

George, an off-duty police officer, stands in front of his neighbor's home, looking at the spiky, dandelion-studded lawn, the striped French windows, the paper-strewn hallway.He shook his head, surprised that grief could change a person so much. In the past, Myers mowed the lawn with a degree of care that no other neighbor in the neighborhood could match.Neighbors usually tidy up the lawns on weekends or holidays to prevent them from growing unsightly, while Miles squats there, holding small scissors and shovels, weeding, pruning and cutting grass, every morning in this way.Every spring, he has to repaint the house.The car was already clean and shiny, so he still had to wash it.Neighboring hostesses used to lecture their husbands on Miles, blaming them for not working hard.

Things have indeed changed, George thought. George hadn't seen Miles working the lawn since his wife was hit and killed by a car three months ago and the perpetrator escaped.After the tragedy happened, George and some other neighbors tried to persuade Miles to mourn, but he was very strong, saying that although he was sad, he would get through it and everyone should not worry about him. Everyone around him admired him. Miles and his wife, who have been married for over twenty years and have no children, love each other in a special way. George hesitated for a while. Although what he was going to do did not comply with the regulations, morally speaking, he should still do it.He took a deep breath, strode to Miles' house, and rang the doorbell.

There is no answer in it.George pressed again, longer than the last time, and the door opened slowly.George blinked at the man standing in the dark passage by the door, collected himself, and suspected that this man was Miles, his thirteen-year-old neighbor across the wall. "Hey, George," the man greeted with a weary face, "how are you?" The lawn had changed, and not to mention the people.People who used to be neatly dressed are now wearing stained, baggy trousers and dirty T-shirts.A mop of gray hair, matted and matted, covered the forehead, and a thick beard added to the blackness of the face.

"I'm fine, Miles," said George. "And yourself? We haven't seen you in a long time." "I think time will dilute everything, what's the matter?" "I want to chat with you, can I come in?" George said.Miles shrugged, "Of course." When George entered the room, although he didn't show anything on his face, everything in the room really surprised him. Miles kept the house spotless during his lifetime. Every time he visited the house before, the furniture was always shiny, and all kinds of trinkets were in place and orderly. But now the house is like a savage’s, full of dirty clothes, newspapers, empty space, etc. There were beer cans strewn about, the carpet was greasy, there were paper crumbs, crumbs, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and a football game was playing blaringly on the TV in the corner.

Miles turned down the volume on the TV and said, "Sit down, please." Pushing a stack of newspapers off the couch onto the floor, "Can a beer?" "No, thanks." George couldn't remember seeing the neighbor drinking alcoholic beverages. Miles reclined on the couch and put one foot on the small stool next to him. "Talk about something?" he asked. "This morning, we caught the driver who caused the accident." George blurted out. Miles raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Did you catch him?" he said softly. George nodded, "He hasn't confessed yet, but there is no doubt that he is the perpetrator.

A twenty-three-year-old rascal, always causing trouble, his car was exactly the same as the witnesses, the license plate, model, color, and the front bumper was slightly bent.The guy had no alibi that night.He is divorced and now single and we caught him on the report of his neighbor because he had been parked in the garage for the past three months. ""Where is he now? " George said angrily, "I wasn't going to tell you this, but Miles, it's a little unfair to you that he's out on bail, because he's got a really good lawyer. Don't worry - he can't escape, we have the evidence. ""What's his name? "

"Hey Miles, on principle I shouldn't have told you we'd got him, but I know you've been in a bad mood since that car accident. I think you know we got the guy who did it , you might be better off. But let the law deal with the rest! Do you know what his name means? ""Just curious, George. "Miles was a little anxious. "You'll find out soon enough, 'cause it'll be in the papers right away. That guy's a fool, and he was gambling in his cabin with some of his cronies when we got him." "He's out on bail?" Miles asked after a thoughtful pause.

"Just released on bail until the court hearing, I can assure you he will definitely go to jail." Miles grabbed a can of beer from the armrest of the sofa, leaned back and drank the wine in it, and then touched his mouth with his hand. "Thanks, George, for telling me that, just knowing that the damned guy was caught makes me feel better." "I thought you'd be better off," George said, "that's why I came here to tell you that unfortunate things like this are really tormenting." Miles stared at the empty beer can in his hand and nodded. "I know this incident has made you suffer enough, Miles, we can't say anything about you, but the days ahead are still long, you should pick yourself up again, you can consider going back to work or going out to relax. Don't forget, I'm right next door, so feel free to say anything." "Of course, thank you, George."

As soon as George left, Miles turned off the TV, feeling that familiar throbbing in his head, like two metal rods digging into his flesh.He'd mostly forgotten that feeling for the past few months, but now the throbbing pressure was back, stronger, and he flung himself back on the couch, closing his eyes. However, as soon as he entered the darkness he was familiar with, that familiar figure immediately appeared in his mind. He saw his wife coming out of the supermarket with a shopping bag in her hand.She is a woman who has always been very cautious.She stopped on the side of the road, looked at the traffic to the left and right, and then crossed the road.Then there was the sound of an engine, and she looked to the right in horror, and then froze there in terror, as a tawny car rushed towards her, threw her into the air several feet, and then sped away, leaving her behind. She was lying in the middle of the road bleeding profusely and mangled.Furniture polish, air freshener, and bug spray were thrown all over the place.

Miles lay there, his heart beating fast, sweat breaking out of his brow for a moment.He knew he had to act or he himself would never be able to live again.The thought weary him, made him almost sick, but there was no escape.The issue was too urgent, and he had to act before the court made the correct decision, otherwise it would be too late. He stood up from the sofa, tried to calm down, and walked through the passage into the bedroom.He opened the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers, searched among the mass of miscellaneous things, and found a revolver hidden there, which he examined carefully to make sure it was loaded.The gun was not registered and was never fired.He thought again about what George had told him, the log cabin, the log cabin, I remembered that the guy once proudly told me that there was such a log cabin at 193 Antonio Street, I didn't expect that guy to hide Go there, I've had a hard time finding it.The hands of the watch pointed to 6:38; it was still early in the evening, and there was still plenty of time for cleaning guns and planning.

Shortly after eleven o'clock, Miles slipped into the driver's seat of the car and began his operation.The sense of oppression from three months ago came back again, making him very nervous and uncomfortable.He had always been an indecisive, but a newfound sense of purpose guided his actions. It wasn't hard to find the guy's address, his house stood out there.A lamp in the room shone dimly.Miles parked the car on the street, put on his gloves, and walked towards the house, the gun in his pocket surprisingly heavy, knowing he was taking a risk but having no choice. Miles came to the eaves and gently tried the handle of the side door. When the door opened, he felt a little surprised, but this is a very quiet residential area, and the people who live here may have a psychological A false sense of security, or the guy was too careless to lock the door. He entered the house, took out his revolver, and stood still for a while, thanking God that there were no dogs in the house.Then Miles walked slowly into the kitchen, nothing out of the ordinary. He crossed the kitchen into the hallway and saw a ray of light from a back room.He walked cautiously toward the light when he heard someone snore. This is a study room. A tall and thin man is sitting on a chair, with his head up and his mouth open, in a deep sleep.On a nearby table, there is a bottle of wine and a glass half full. Miles secretly rejoiced.He entered the room, walked up to the guy, and carefully placed the revolver in the guy's weaker hand, pressing his fingertips on the trigger of the gun.The poor fellow groaned in his sleep, and twisted his legs.Miles raised his hand and pointed the gun to the guy's temple, and suddenly the guy opened his eyes.The eyes of the two people met, and for a brief moment, the guy showed an understanding expression on his face. Just then the gun went off. As gunshots still echoed through the house, Miles dropped the gun, fled the house, closed the door, and walked to his car.As soon as he got into the driver's seat, he tore off his gloves and threw them on the seat next to him, started the car with trembling hands and ran away in a hurry. He told himself that everything was going well and he was safe.For a man who has committed a felony and is about to stand trial, no one will suspect homicide.Even if he doubted, no one would connect himself with that guy's death, because he didn't know his name and address, and George could testify to himself.And the gun was not registered, and the god of luck came to him again. But these thoughts did not ease his nervousness. When he got to his own door and saw the overgrown lawn in front of him, Miles felt a little relieved. He thought that if his wife was still alive, the lawn must be well manicured, but those days are gone back. He stopped the car, stuffed his gloves into the pocket of his jacket, opened the door and entered the house, he inhaled the strange smell of dust in his nostrils, and there was no more lemon scent, he looked at the mess in the house and knew he would never hear it again The wife is pointing fingers. "This is where the chairs are, and that's where the shoes are." The more Miles thought about it, the more he felt better. He strode into the bedroom and changed into comfortable dirty clothes. He threw the clothes he had taken off into a pile of debris at the foot of the bed, then turned around and went to the kitchen, and took out a bag from the refrigerator. He took a can of beer, tore open the mouth of the can, and took a sip.The wife never allowed alcoholic beverages in the house.Miles smiled, and his brain became much clearer. Only one wellspring of pain stood in the way of his contentment.I should have killed her myself, he thought, as he brought the beer into the bedroom, before paying for that wretch and ending up having to trouble myself to do it again.